“Four Jews in Room Bitching!” was my first introduction to William Finn ’74. Both the first lyrics and title of the first song of Falsettos, his Tony award-winning inaugural Broadway show, the song — an anthem of Jewish guilt, angst, and nagging, all loosely relevant to the show’s plot — shocks and entertains its listeners. In many ways, this song and the experience that Finn created by placing it at the beginning of his piece represents his work style: full of blunt truths, cerebral wordplay, and presentations of flawed individuals trying to figure out their issues, messiness, and all.
While a student at the College, Finn accomplished much, writing three original musicals. His first, Sizzle, advertised as “a musical paranoia,” was humorously described in the Dec. 17, 1971 issue of the Record as the “first totally original musical at Williams (probably).” With the mentality of overcommitment typical of a Williams student, he wrote the music and lyrics and also directed the piece. He went on to compose and lyricize many influential pieces, including Falsettos, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, A New Brain, Elegies: A Song Cycle, and more. The overarching themes of these pieces drew largely from Finn’s life and identity, including Judaism, queerness, illness, and community.
Last month, I had the privilege of presenting my honors thesis production of Finn’s Falsettoland, the third in a collection of his pieces known as The Marvin Trilogy. Notably, the second two of these one-acts March of the Falsettos and Falsettoland) are frequently paired to form the two-act Falsettos. From engaging deeply with Finn’s text and doing extensive research on him and his influences, my appreciation for his impact on musical theatre and his connection to the College grew immensely. I had the great pleasure of meeting Finn and his long-term partner, Arthur Salvadore, last year at Barrington Stage Company’s production of A New Brain.
Already a large fan of his from my middle school obsession with Falsettos — which persists to this day — it was surreal to see another of his works so close to the man who made it all possible. The most autobiographical of his works, A New Brain, follows the story of a young songwriter, the fictional Gordon Schwinn, as he faces a life-threatening brain arteriovenous malformation — based on Finn’s real-life sudden brain injury in the ’90s — and his journey toward recovery. Watching this show about love (with a character representing Salvadore from early in their relationship), fear, and a yearning to push the bounds of artistic creativity, sitting just a few seats away from Finn is a memory I will always cherish.
At the time still living nearby, he had planned to attend our production of Falsettoland but was unfortunately unable to at the last minute. The cast, crew, and I still felt his presence — it is impossible not to when listening to his heart-wrenching score. Because of the content of the piece, which takes place during the AIDS epidemic, we spent many rehearsals discussing the Jewish understanding of death and the idea that the standard Jewish condolence is “May their memory be a blessing,” a call to remember the deceased and the joy they brought as a comfort to those who loved them. Our production of Falsettoland ended with a shiva, the Jewish ritual of providing company, food, and support to loved ones of the deceased, because we saw the key message of Finn’s words to be about using what we loved about someone to light the way towards a future honoring them.
In that spirit, I have compiled a list of some valuable life lessons that Williams students can learn from Finn’s work.
First: Representation is a valuable way to make a social impact. Falsettos never mentions the word “AIDS,” and yet it is one of the most influential pieces on the topic because of how it represents the humanity of those affected by the disease. The activism of Falsettoland does not lie in the overt preaching of social issues, nor does it tell the audience how to react to sudden tragedy or change. It simply presents a flawed group of humans and brings the audience on an emotional journey alongside them. It does this by providing every-day depictions of queer people, Jews, and nontraditional families, and encouraging viewers to empathize with their undeserved suffering.
Second: Take risks and invite people into your life! Spelling Bee includes the device of inviting audience members onstage as pseudo contestants, providing outlandish contexts for words and increasing the difficulty if they stay in too long. So, embrace unpredictability (and maybe attend an improv show)!
Third: if you fail once, try again! During his college years, Finn was in New York, looked up Stephen Sondheim’s address, and tried to meet him at his house. He was not let in. But he did later win the same prestigious Hutchinson Fellowship that his idol and fellow alum had won 24 years prior, and they met later in life as contemporaries.
Fourth: It’s ok to not go to medical school — had Finn pursued that path, which other Williams alum would have dared to attempt another frog-themed show, like A New Brain, after Sondheim’s oft-forgotten musical?
Fifth: Storytelling is one of our most powerful tools for empathy and care, and we do not need to be master poets to use it. In a 1992 conversation with the Record about the content of Falsettos, he stated, “I’m trying to tell a story, and I can’t tell you any more than that. I don’t understand how it all works, and I can’t talk intelligently about it. All I can do is tell a story, usually through song, and that’s what I do.” And that he certainly did.
As the seasons change and we approach the end of the year, I’d like to end with two quotes from Finn’s work. The first is from the finale of A New Brain, as the company sings about the change of seasons and recovery through hardships: “I feel so much spring within me/ Blow winds blow/ Spring has just begun/ And something’s taking wing within me/ What was dark so long has felt like winter/Finally, there’s sun.” To us seniors nearing graduation, I’d urge you to look at Finn’s 2021 Record op-ed to that year’s graduating class, and to all, I invite you to embrace the possibility of a spring for finding joy, promoting empathy, and new beginnings. Let’s tell those stories and take those risks. As we as a campus face high levels of fear, stress, and grief, I turn to one of my favorite Finn lyrics, about what to prioritize when feeling lost: “It’s about growing up, getting older, living on a lover’s shoulder, learning love is not a crime.”
Sari Klainberg is a theatre, comparative literature, and Spanish major from Brooklyn, N.Y.
